


Agony

by Abbacchios_gf



Category: Original Work
Genre: Child Loss, Death, Heavy Angst, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:42:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29844450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbacchios_gf/pseuds/Abbacchios_gf
Summary: Have you ever felt that painful ache, and sting, as if your heart has been torn out and ripped into a million pieces?
Kudos: 1





	Agony

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, my first work, and its not a nice one either. Ignore the shitty writing, i wrote this at 12 am. Enjoy

What could be best described as a mix between a shrill scream and the sound of crying filling the cold, empty hallways. Sounding as if she were getting stabbed, over, and over, and over again, Mother rested her head against the little boy’s chest, holding his hand like a vice, as if he would leave her if she let go. But the poor boy was already gone. Sitting on the bed, motionless, as pale as the walls that held Mother’s devastated cries and screams— But who could blame her? Feeling so helpless, feeling like her heart has been ripped out of her. An unbearable, indescribable pain enveloped her as she witnessed her own flesh and blood pass before her eyes. A pain worse than the pain she felt as the doctor bared the news that their precious little boy was not going to make it. At least back then she had hope he would push through, strong as he was, her pride and joy. But now all of her hopes were shattered into a million little pieces. There’s no hoping anymore. No more praying, no more wishing for a miracle to happen and save him, for he’s now gone. Off to a better place. He’s not in pain anymore, Mother tried to reassure herself. Father, on the other hand, silently crying as he held the boy’s other hand, which was by now starting to get cold, as with the rest of his body. Like Mother, Father felt helpless. Weak. Guilty for not being able to save his son—even though it wasn’t his fault—Forced to watch the life draining out of his once sparkling little eyes, and being able to do absolutely nothing about it as they spent their last moments together. The boy, who was too young to realize what was going on, looked at his parents with a tired smile, which would be his last smile, as he slowly dies, murmuring something about being sleepy, hoping to later wake up to Mother making pancakes for breakfast, and playing ball in the yard with Father. But it wouldn’t. And then, nothing. Stillness. Silence, as he took his last breath, and finally left. He's gone. And there's nothing they could've done about it.


End file.
